GOOD READING JUNE 2016 19
own mum was boyfriends.
When my own daughter
went through her terrible teens,
it helped to remember all the
grief I’d made my own poor
mama endure – all those years of
eye-rolling, third-degree sarcasm
and Neanderthal boyfriends with
three-grunt vocabularies.
The truth is, besides feeding
and water ing and prodding with a
foot occasionally to see if it’s still
alive, there’s no foolproof method
of raising a teenager. But the
joyful news is that they do come
through it. By 21 I’d re-emerged,
full of love, light, laughter and
devotion to my darling mother, as
did my own daughter – although,
when she went a tad feral and
momentar ily rejected me during
her teen years, I did allow my
mum a little light gloating.
By the way, my top parenting
tip: if a rabid teenage daughter
does get loose in your home,
do not under any circumstances
approach it. This creature is armed
and dangerous. It has teeth. Back
slowly out of the house and sleep
on the nature strip. And if it ever
screams at you: ‘I wish you’d just
die!’ take a big gulp of wine and a
drag on your fag and simply reply:
‘I’m doing my best, darling.’
What I learned from my
Mum is:
• Don’t sweat the small stuff.
• You’re of pioneering stock.
• Nobody can make you feel
inferior unless you let them.
• Laugh and the world laughs
with you, cry and your martini gets salty.
I wish I’d inherited her ability to cook the
perfect cupcake. But I’m so, so glad I don’t have
her terrible singing voice. I keep thinking it
will turn into a tune, but it doesn’t.
One big difference is that my
mother’s generation didn’t like to
talk about sex and relationships.
There was some brief, cursory
chat when I was 12 which
involved awful sanitary towels
with belts, but apart from that it
was the mother–daughter film at
school. Ugh, do you remember
those films? It’s a wonder the
Pope isn’t ringing us up for tips
on celibacy.
My generation tried to
be the opposite. We want to
talk about every nuance of sex
and relationships and mucous
viscosity. Of course, our daughters
react to this with horror. My
darling daughter only wanted to
use the word ‘per iod’ if it was
next to the word ‘Jurassic’ or
‘Hellenic’. It makes me laugh
now to think how teenagers
would rather die than be seen
in public with their parents. My
own daughter went through
that stage. Living with a teenage
daughter is like living with a little
dictator – you’re not allowed to
laugh, sing, dance, wear short
skirts or be seen in a ten-mile
radius of your child!
My husband has never said to
me: ‘You’re just like your mother.’
And if he did say that, it would
be a compliment. He’s more
likely to say: ‘Can’t you be more
like your mother?’ What I covet
is her patience. I’m of the ‘instant
gratification takes too long’
school of thought. I also covet
her deep kindness – Mum always
gives people the benefit of the doubt and sees
goodness in all.
Things My Mother Taught Me
edited by Claire Halliday is published by
Echo Publishing, rrp $29.95.
BOOK BITE